i?^ 


PT 

2447 

S6 

E53 

1921 

MAIN 


IfltBir^Uanwua  ^ttnmtB 


MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 


PLATEN 


BY 


REGINALD  B.  COOKE,  Ph.D. 


ANDRUS  &  CHURCH 
ITHACA,  NEW  YORK 
1921 


A 


Entered  in  the  Library  of  Congress 
and  copyright,  1921,  by 

V;     R.  B.  Cooke 


This  edition  Hmited  to  75  copies. 
Copy  No.-/-?-- 


^pxtixsoxb 


j^  ^  *-  •/  -> 


This,  the  fourth  series  of  my  translations  from  Platen, 
contains  all  the  sonnets  which  may  be  described  as  miscel- 
laneous. The  Aurora,  the  earliest  of  his  sonnets,  was 
written  when  Platen  was  only  sixteen,  while  with  the 
Epitaph  he  finally  lay  down  his  pen  as  sonneteer  at  the  age 
of  thirty-three,  with  a  reputation,  so  far  as  concerns  this 
form  of  verse,  second  to  none  in  any  age  or  any  literature. 

Of  the  four  sonnets  taken  from  the  Jugenddramen,  the 
first  is  spoken  by  Prince  Astolf  in  the  fourth  act  of  Der- 
gldserne  Pantoffel,  and  the  other  three  may  be  found  in  Der 
Schatz  des  Rhampsinit. 

The  mottoes  are,  of  course,  Platen's  own,  first  appear- 
ing with  the  sonnets  in  1834  and  1828,  respectively. 

No  English  translation  of  these  sonnets  has  hitherto 
appeared,  with  the  exception  of  the  nineteenth,  a  rendering 
of  which  by  C.  H.  Genung  may  be  found  in  Warner's 
Library  of  the  World's  Best  Literature. 

The  rhyme-schemes  of  these  sonnets  are  again  identi- 
cal with  those  of  the  originals,  and  the  division  of  each 
sonnet  into  four  parts  is,  with  two  or  three  exceptions, 
scrupulously,  if  sometimes  reluctantly',  adhered  to. 

Orr's  Island,  Maine.  R.  B.  C. 


-r- 5 '2  Gill. 


MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS 


MOTTOES 
I 

What  by  its  own  confession 
Hath  ever  youth  unfeigned 

Is,  in  restrained  expression. 
A  spirit  unrestrained. 

II 

If  you  feel  quite  unprovided, 
Having  naught  to  take  or  lend. 

Be  the  last  fragment  divided 
With  your  sole-beloved  friend. 


AURORA 

SHE  comes  the  gray  of  orient  to  imbue 
With  radiant  tints;  her  hght  seems  to  appall 
The  stars,  and  from  the  spokes  of  Charles*  Wain  fall 
Pearls  which  dissolve  upon  Earth's  lap  in  dew. 
The  darkened  skies  assume  an  azure  hue; 
The  birds  break  the  long  silence  with  their  call, 
Each  bough  voicing  Aurora's  praise;  and  all 
The  winds  their  soft  and  balmy  breath  renew. 

She  kisses  the  tree-tops  with  rosy  light. 
And  w^hat  is  left  unfinished  by  the  night 
She  stamps,  as  now^  completed,  with  a  seal. 
The  most  abundant  blessings  still  reveal 
Her  path;  and  though  she  vanish  soon  away 
She  leaves  her  brother  here  to  cheer  the  day. 


(1812) 


LOVE'S    FAREWELL 

THY  presence  have  I  lost  for  evermore. 
My  gentle  love,  with  all  thy  merriment 
And  all  thy  charms  with  silent  sorrows  blent, 
Whom  once  I  chose  all  other  loves  before. 
I  trusted  everything  her  lips  then  swore 
So  graciously  to  me,  while  Heaven  lent 
Love's  candle-light;  yet  soon  she  faithless  sent 
Me  forth  deceived,  and  mocked  the  love  I  bore. 

Thou  dost  behold  me,  my  beloved,  recline 
Before  thine  altar  on  this  marble  stair. 
Can  naught  recall  again  thy  form  divine  ? 
Can  naught  recall  thy  lineaments  so  fair. 
Which  wove  perforce  a  new  life  about  mine. 
And  now  entangle  others  in  their  snare  ? 

(1813  or  1814) 


UNCERTAINTY 

BY  swift  illusions  all  too  long  dismayed, 
To  inclination  yielding  thoughtlessly, 
Glad  when  thy  friendly  glances  smiled  on  me, 
Mine  sought  but  thee  where  throngs  their  revels  made. 
And  yet,  when  now  my  feelings  have  been  weighed, 
I  must  regard  thee  in  perplexity; 
I  love,  but  may  I  also  reverence  thee  ? 
Or,  'neath  thy  guidance,  have  my  footsteps  strayed  ? 

How  so  ?     Or  does  thine  outward  form  deceive  ? 
And  can  the  fairest  features  e'er  impart 
A  beauty  which  the  soul  does  not  achieve  } 
Grant  thy  disdain  distresses  not  my  heart. 
And  when  in  love  our  spirits  interweave. 
Thus  speak:  "  Oh  come,  for  thou  my  chosen  art." 


(1816) 


IV 


DENSE  foliage  already  spans  the  crest 
Of  verdant  palaces,  and  clear  and  bright 
The  waves  portray  the  heavens  and  the  flight 
Of  birds  returning  to  their  summer  nest. 
The  very  flov/ers,  rising  from  the  breast 
Of  Earth,  where  droop  the  darlings  of  the  night, 
Smile  on  thy  birthday,  by  the  radiant  light 
Allured  to  brave  the  breezes  of  the  w^est. 

Sweet  perfumes  truly  but  no  words  dispense 
Th*  untutored  flow^ers  in  saluting  thee. 
And  to  their  sisters  wise  for  these  they  pray  — 
Their  sisters  who,  less  charming  to  the  sense. 
More  constant  sprout,  and  so  perpetually 
To-morrow  bloom  as  they  bloomed  yesterday. 


(1819) 


V 

FROM  all  these  chains  oh  set  thy  spirit  free, 
Which  in  the  past  so  bravely  thou  didst  bear, 
And  be  thou  not  in  puerile  despair 
Content  with  servile  mediocrity. 
Though  malice  clench  her  fists,  yet  shall  there  be 
Living  and  breathing  hearts  v^hich  boldly  dare 
To  beat  as  quick  as  thine;  so  let  the  air 
Resound  with  none  but  blithesome  melody. 

Begrudge  the  paltry  critics  not  their  say, 
Seeking  in  turn  to  praise  and  to  deride, 
To  inconsistency  of  soul  a  prey. 
Slowly  their  brief  resentment  will  subside; 
But  you  shake  off  the  coarseness  of  the  day 
Whenever  godly  rhythms  upward  guide. 

(1820?) 


VI 


IMPERIOUS  in  his  ardor,  one  who  bore 
Full  willingly  Love's  bonds  has  idolized 
In  sonnet-songs  his  Laura,  dearly  prized 
Both  in  her  life  and  after  life  was  o'er. 
And  of  adventurous  deeds  in  goodly  store 
Sonnets  of  melting  music  once  devised 
A  hero,  who  o'er  th*  angry  waves  emprised 
A  passage,  song  his  only  guiding  oar. 

And  as  the  third  a  German  next  appears, 
To  join  the  Florentine  and  Portuguese, 
And  sings  full  armed  for  doughty  cavaliers. 
These,  who  have  proved  their  great  abilities, 
I  follow  as  a  reaper  one  who  shears, 
For  I  dare  count  myself  no  fourth  with  these. 


(1820) 


THE  ROMANTIC  DRAMA 

SHAKESPEARE,  I  see  thy  sprites  in  many  a  role, 
See  Puck  and  Ariel  on  mischief  bent. 
A  fertile  glance  into  life's  depths  has  lent 
To  thee,  O  Calderon,  guidance  to  thy  goal. 
Thou,  Gozzi,  ever  whimsical  and  droll, 
Hast  given  us  the  art  of  merriment; 
And  thou,  O  Tieck,  guidest  with  kind  intent 
To  ever  youthful  sport  the  earnest  soul. 

You  never  sink  to  unimpassioned  prose. 

With  endless  prodigality  you  strew 

Bright  sparks  midst  which  your  golden  flame  still  glows. 

A  great  and  holy  mission  yours;  with  you 

Poesy's  intoxicating  stream  arose; 

And  now  the  splendors  of  success  accrue. 


(1821) 


MY  VOCATION 

ON  every  shore  the  haughty  billows  surge, 
Which,  by  a  poet's  impetuosity 
To  pour  from  out  my  very  veins  set  free, 
At  first  but  streams,  now  to  a  sea  converge. 
That  so  its  little  song  no  longer  scourge. 
Let  the  swift  waves  engulf  false  repartee; 
And  with  a  soft  voluptuous  melody 
Faith's  threshold  shall  the  flowery  foam  submerge. 

Do  not  the  w^aves  of  ocean,  which  refresh 
The  realms  of  nature,  all  that  lives  conceive  ? 
Has  not  Urania  even  sprung  from  them  ? 
Oh,  might  I  only  likewise  pearls  enmesh 
From  depths  still  inexhaustible,  and  -weave 
From  them  Germania's  godly  diadem  ! 


(1821) 


FROM  THE  JUGENDDRAMEN-1 

BY  the  green  net  these  lofty  boughs  afford 
As  I,  thine  image  in  my  heart,  have  lain 
O'erarched,  how  fair  the  forest  seems  again, 
How  sweet  to  w^hisper  soft  complaints  abroad. 
Solitude  brings  to  me  delights  restored 
Which  I  have  sought  these  bygone  days  in  vain. 
*Tis  he  w^ho  feels  not  love's  tormenting  pain 
Who  lives  all  heedless  midst  the  human  horde. 

Weary  am  I  of  hastening  to  and  fro. 
For  truly  are  such  gentle  dreams  as  these 
Dearer  than  traffic  v/ith  the  crow^d;  but  Oh, 
Rather  than  stray  w^ith  thoughts  of  thee  at  ease 
In  shady  groves,  might  I  the  fortune  know 
Here  to  recline  with  thee  beneath  the  trees. 


(1823) 


FROM  THE  JUGENDDRAMEN-2 

O'ER  worldly  goods  how  fretfully  we  spend 
Our  days,  and  yet  the  truest  joys  unsought 
Befall,  even  as  I,  though  seeking  naught, 
Found  the  fresh  beauty  youth  to  thee  doth  lend. 
And  now  be  Fate  our  love's  protecting  friend, 
Whether  she  lead  thy  swift- pursuing  thought 
In  many  a  way  ward- wandering  path  distraught. 
Or  with  a  kindly  grace  thy  steps  attend. 

For  oft  it  happens  that  a  wish  at  birth 
Will  banish  even  the  most  anxious  care, 
And  oft  that  it  bestows  a  moment's  worth; 
Perchance  that  we  desire  to  alter  ne'er 
A  word;  that  of  the  fairest  joys  on  earth 
The  fairest  portion  soon  shall  be  our  share. 


(1824) 


FROM  THE  JUGENDDRAMEN— 3 

AND  so  farewell,  ye  gloomy  prison  walls. 
Ye  who  have  been  a  prince's  residence  I 
No  more  I  pass  the  irksome  hours  hence 
Reading  my  Seneca  crouched  in  these  stalls. 
You  were  designed  only  for  knaves  and  thralls. 
Birches  and  stocks  their  proper  recompense. 
You  saw  them  here  their  savage  lives  dispense, 
And  echoed  back  their  vulgar  gutter-calls. 

You  are  transformed  into  a  Paradize 

Or  Blessed  Isles,  since  I  with  master-hand 

Have  scrawled  upon  thee.     With  enraptured  eyes 

The  future  world  staring  at  thee  shall  stand, 

For  every  place  my  Muse  whimpers  and  sighs 

Save  only  this  lies  in  the  sluggard's  land. 


(1824) 


FROM  THE  JUGENDDRAMEN— 4 

FATE  rushes  fiercely  on  me,  and  appears 
To  me  like  a  wild  boar  whetting  his  fangs; 
And  every  minute  passes  big  with  pangs, 
Each  second  pregnant  with  some  outrage  nears. 
Of  thievish  trade  I  have  suspicious  fears, 
And  even  she  1  love  most  dearly  hangs 
Me  in  a  pillory,  where  my  heart  gangs 
Round  like  a  mill-wheel  undershot  by  tears. 

Yet  gladly  for  her  fault  I  suffer  all, 
As  through  no  fault  of  mine  1  do  the  task 
Set  by  the  lovely  Author  of  the  Fall. 
She  strews  me  where  the  alligators  bask, 
She  strikes  at  me  as  at  a  volley-ball, 
She  mashes  me  to  butter  in  a  cask ! 


(1824) 


XIII 


To  gain  himself  a  coronal  who  should 
Bestir  himself,  when,  like  a  venal  jade, 
For  each  flat  brow  our  times  zealously  brade 
A  wreath  from  blooms  which  have  no  hardihood  ? 
Who  should  still  emulate  the  greatest  good, 
When  he  who  has  the  emptiest  brain  is  made 
Most  welcome,  who  ascend  the  starry  glade 
Of  heaven,  when  sparks  arise  from  rotten  wood  ? 

Rubbish  in  rhymes  that  all  may  understand 

Goes  forth  in  peace  for  all  to  eulogize. 

And  ranks  you  as  if  I  were  not  at  hand ! 

Alas  !  no  newspapers  memorialize 

In  bronze;  and  though  proclaimed  in  every  land. 

Yet  one  thing  still  you  lack  —  praise  from  the  wise. 


(1826) 


XIV 

I  DARED  to  strike  an  unaccustomed  tone, 
Devoting  all  my  heart  to  magnify 
The  arts  through  all  my  life;  and  when  I  die. 
So  shall  I  die  for  beauty's  sake  alone. 
Truly  I  wish  that  mankind  should  enthrone 
The  Better,  but  should  let  me,  nurtured  nigh 
The  Highest,  learn  to  seek  all  that  is  high. 
Yea,  that  my  native  land  her  son  disown  ! 

Since  to  her  cause  my  strength  I  still  devote, 
I  love  her  not  the  less,  though  satisfied 
Of  all  her  children  to  be  most  remote. 
Though  I  be  long  departed,  yet  abide 
My  gifts,  to  swell  her  treasure  and  denote 
A  sure  possession  of  our  German  pride. 


(1826) 


XV 


WHATE'RE  in  me  critics  may  criticize. 
The  courage  of  my  soul  I  ne'er  shall  tame, 
For  if  vsre  shun  even  a  moment's  fame. 
Who  then  are  we  to  battle  with  the  skies  ? 
Shall  I  conceal  my  true  capacities. 
And  shall  I  hesitate  even  to  name 
My  feelings?  My  own  thoughts  put  me  to  shame, 
Fearing,  like  swallows,  from  the  earth  to  rise. 

For  here  'tis  futile  to  be  timorous; 

Boldly  to  speak  the  truth  becometh  each 

Who  soon  shall  rest  in  his  sarcophagus. 

In  after  times  men  w^ill  my  soul  beseech 

In  Paradise,  and  justify  me  thus: 

In  thought  so  great,  how  were  he  mean  in  speech  ? 

(1826) 


XVI 


THIS  land  of  toil  I  leave  without  a  sigh; 
From  harsh  subjection  there  is  no  release 
Where  man,  oppressed  by  troubles,  knows  no  peace, 
Though  destined  to  oblivion  by  and  by. 
We  have  indeed  advantages.     Here  lie 
Before  us  honor,  w^ealth,  and  the  increase 
Of  knov/Iedge;   and  we  Germans  never  cease 
To  wear  ourselves  out,  so,  worn  out,  to  die. 

And  such  a  man  should  never  know  defeat, 

But  let  him  thrive  where  pov/er  and  luck  are  wed, 

Faw^ning  on  each  new^  vogue  as  seems  discreet. 

For  me,  merely  a  w^andering  bard,  instead 

A  friend,  a  bowl  of  v/ine,  a  cool  retreat 

Suffice,  and  honor  after  I  am  dead. 


(1826) 


XVII 

WHOEVER  thought  Hfe  to  anticipate 
But  lost  the  half  of  it  in  dreams,  distraught 
With  pangs  of  love,  in  speech  with  fools,  or  fraught 
With  fever,  or  in  some  such  hapless  state  ? 
Yea,  even  he,  calm  and  deliberate, 
Who,  born  ^vith  consciousness  of  wrhat  he  ought. 
From  early  youth  a  single  path  has  sought 
Through  life,  must  pale  before  the  blovv^s  of  fate. 

Each  hopes  Fortune  may  smile  in  his  behoof, 
But  to  bear  fortune  w^hen  it  does  arrive 
Were  of  the  agency  of  God  a  proof. 
Nor  comes  it  merely  since  y/e  v/ish  and  strive; 
It  falls  not  on  the  sleeper  from  the  roof. 
Nor  shall  the  huntsman  run  it  down  alive. 


(1826) 


XVIII 

AMID  these  glittering  snow-peaks  I  am  fain 
In  peace  to  ponder  past  adversities. 
Scarce  back  to  Germany  I  turn  my  eyes, 
Yet  scarcely  forward  t'ward  th'  Italian  plain. 
Crowns  I  have  dreamed  of  I  pursue  in  vain, 
Which  might  refresh  my  burning  brow,  and  sighs. 
But  seldom  stifled,  in  my  breast  arise, 
As  though  mere  sighs  could  soothe  my  spirit's  pain ! 

Where  is  the  heart  that  sorrows  do  not  rend  ? 
The  plantasms  of  life  forever  stole 
Upon  one,  though  he  fled  to  the  world's  end. 
One  solace  yet  remains,  that  with  the  whole 
Of  these  my  burdens  I  may  still  contend 
Perchance,  through  strength  and  dignity  of  soul. 


(1826) 


XIX 

FURTHER  and  ever  further  yet  to  toil 
T  ward  distant  lands  my  spirit  still  doth  yearn; 
Though  Paradise  surround  where're  1  turn, 
Ne'er  could  I  long  cling  to  my  native  soil. 
While  inner  conflicts  still  her  peace  embroil, 
In  this  short  life  my  soul  has  come  to  learn 
How  easy  *t  is  th*  ancestral  home  to  spurn. 
To  find  a  new  —  what  difficulties  foil ! 

Yet  if  one  loathes  whole-hearted  what  is  base, 
It  will  pursue  him  from  his  heritage, 
If  there   t  is  honored  by  the  populace. 
To  flee  one's  fatherland  is  far  more  sage 
Than  still  to  bear  among  a  childish  race 
The  yoke  of  the  unthinking  rabble's  rage. 


(1826) 


XX 


WHAT  have  you  by  your  Rhine  and  Ister  here 
That  may  enthrone  you  with  the  ancient  Greek  ? 
The  newspaper,  the  journal,  the  critique, 
Ministers  of  poHce  —  tobacco  —  beer ! 
You  who  have  never  known  those  sisters  dear, 
Freedom  and  Art,  who,  girdled,  there  would  seek 
To  place  upon  their  heads  crowns  which  bespeak 
Perfection  —  would  you  pedants  Greeks  appear  ? 

Nay,  all  your  efforts  are  but  mockeries. 

For  Greece  knew  how  to  spread  th'  eternal  sheen 

Of  beauty  over  everything.     What  is 

The  art  of  which  your  boasts  have  ever  been  ? 

In  a  great  ocean  of  absurdities 

A  few  ingenious  swimmers  may  be  seen  ! 


(1826) 


XXI 

OYOU  whose  malice  stirs  afresh  the  plaster, 
That  folly  and  bad  taste  may  be  cemented, 
With  the  canaille's  good  will  alone  contented. 
Who  grow  yet  bold  and  bolder  fast  and  faster. 
When  once  these  lying  spirits  bring  disaster. 
All  bounds  of  moderation  circumvented, 
Then  you  will  call  on  me,  too  late  repented. 
Then  you  w^ill  nominate  me  your  good  master: 

"  Oh  would  that  all  his  words  might  be  repeated, 
Who  strove  to  us  the  pathway  to  betoken 
To  truth,  though  nov/  his  spirit  has  retreated. 
Ne'er  by  his  steps  shall  Alpine  snows  be  broken 
Again;  his  w^ork  among  us  is  completed  I" 
Yea,  all  my  vengeance  this,  that  naught  be  spoken 


(1829) 


EPITAPH 

I  WAS  a  poet  born  but  blows  to  earn 
Of  the  ill  times  in  which  my  lot  was  cast; 
But  drank  of  fame  ere  yet  my  youth  was  past, 
And  left  my  impress  on  the  speech  in  turn. 
Ne'er  in  the  school  of  art  slothful  to  learn, 
It  therefore  fell  to  me  new  paths  to  blast, 
And  to  pour  forth  my  soul  in  rhymes,  to  last 
To  distant  times,  if  rightly  I  discern. 

I  fashioned  songs  from  various  themes,  as  well 
As  comedies  and  legends  of  the  brave. 
All  in  a  style  which  no  one  could  excel. 
The  second  prize  for  odes  to  me  they  gave, 
Life's  hopes  and  sorrowings  my  sonnets  tell, 
And  I  have  sung  these  verses  for  my  grave. 


(1829) 


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